


the good stuff seems so hard to hold.

by Prettything_uglylie



Series: strange love (aka rare pairs i write) [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: (i know there is like three of us but wIG) -, - on behalf of us bill denbrough stans, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Derry is Evil, First Kiss, I promise, Love Confessions, M/M, that the ending is only because derry steals memories, this is such a quick fic lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:00:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22354507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prettything_uglylie/pseuds/Prettything_uglylie
Summary: "What are you thinking about?"And perhaps, that is why they are best friends -- because no matter how long he's known the others, they either never notice when his eyes go into this misty void of his mind, no one else notices or at the very least, they don't ask. They never ask; no one asks Bill.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Eddie Kaspbrak
Series: strange love (aka rare pairs i write) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1625347
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	the good stuff seems so hard to hold.

**Author's Note:**

> I've just been wanting to get some muse out and this one came to me so I hope you guys like it!

"What are you thinking about?" 

And perhaps, that is why they are best friends -- because no matter how long he's known the others, they either never notice when his eyes go into this misty void of his mind, no one else notices or at the very least, they don't ask. They never ask; no one asks Bill. 

Or maybe they are best friends because at five years old, William Denbrough, all radiant smile and stutter-less, had asked him if he wanted to join their baseball game and Eddie Kaspbrak had been taught in his ancient five years that he is not a boy built for sports - at fifteen, he will join the track team and it will be the second-best thing to ever happen to him - and he will only end up hurt but this strangely appealing boy's smile is every bit siren song he reads about in his fantasy books and he stood before saying yes. 

He hadn't thought of saying no. 

Sitting on a river bed, two weeks away from the latter moving away, Eddie Kaspbrak and Bill Denbrough enjoy the serenity of this void that though they know tomorrow will come, they have chosen to allow tomorrow to come slowly. It is all their decision because they get to feel this; it's no longer their choice if they get to see each other, not when Bill's parents had used the word 'West Virginia' and Eddie had spent a full night figuring out how much allowance money it would take to get his fifteen-year-old ass to Virginia from Derry and another night to figure out how long it would take for his mother to announce him missing and twenty minutes after that for wondering how long it would take her to choke the police chief out for his lack of reaction to another missing child. But he knows -- he knows like he knows it will be peril forever, it feels like the end and for once, no one's voice in his head is telling him otherwise. So Eddie asks, and Bill? 

He hadn't thought of saying no. 

"Us." Bill answers like that word doesn't feel like a pickaxe to Eddie's constant burning candle heart. It feels like how Bill used to show that trick to him, Stanley Uris and Richie Tozier where he would smother a candle with his cupped palm like it didn't burn the thin skin of his hand but - but it feels like Bill is strangling him with his words on his candle-wick heart. 

He swallows tensely and on the riverbank near the Derry canal, he suddenly can feel the dew that sprinkled upon the green grass and the cold seep into his clothes before he answers in a question, "Us?" 

"I'm ti-tired, Eds." And Richie had given him that nickname but they had all adopted it until it no longer bothered him and he had actually grown kind of fond of it. 

He's always seen it. Bill's bags under his eyes have gotten darker over his years and the fat near his waist has gotten on the side of too-thin, Eddie is watching a tired boy as he dies but Eddie doesn't know how to save him. Eddie will only know how to die with him because _hasn't that always been his love? Hasn't it always been just what he has been willing to die for?_

Oh, and he's always been willing to die for Bill Denbrough. Always, and it is so strangely perfect but so haunting at every turn where it is fond. 

"Go to sleep," He suggests, patting his thigh gently as imagining Bill's head laying in Derry, Maine's upturned dirt is haunting in every single way but Bill doesn't move to lay so he continues, "I'll be here." 

Because he doesn't have _its okay_ or _nothing will happen_ in his mouth anymore; because in Derry, is it ever? 

"I'm tired of us doing this." He almost misses Bill's stutter sometimes. "I...I..." 

There are no words for it anymore and Eddie's heart is a palpitating drum in his throat but he doesn't rush it. He doesn't want to assume what Bill means because Bill is observant of some of the strangest things but naive to the most obvious so he doesn't say the words he's been wanting to say since they were five years old and Bill was guiding his baseball swings to help. 

He doesn't say _I love you._

"I love you." 

But Bill does. 

Because Bill will always be margins braver than him and Eddie will always be addicted to his periwinkle lips and his saucer-wide blue eyes, his brave shoulders that carry the world and Eddie - _Eddie_ is in love with him. 

And then, Bill kisses him. 

Two hands on both of his cheeks, soft lips pressed against each other and though they have grown up and into one another, he had never expected the forms between their lips to fit so well or for Bill's lips along to feel like the cool press of mint to his own lips and he blinks for a moment, hands outstretched. _This is like one of those stupid jokes Richie tells,_ Eddie thinks in a way that edges on too delayed, _where he asks what a guy is supposed to do with his hands when he's getting...when he's getting a blowjob._

But then his mind, his lips pressed to Bill's in a kiss that he's craved since they were children, supplies him with the reminder of a blowjob joke which makes his knee bounce because now, he's thinking about that. With Bill. 

Oh God. 

When Bill pulls away, face a tad too meek for Eddie's own liking, he sees the flush of Eddie's cheeks and must assume the worst based on how he responds, "I-I'm suh-suh-sorry, Eds...I tho-thought you were interested..." 

He is. Oh, he so is, he's interested in kissing Bill again just to feel the slender tiers making a hollow on his own lips or to deepen the kiss to see what Bill tastes like, or to tell Bill jokes that make him laugh in that way that Bill always covers his mouth for because he gets embarrassed or to know what Bill's eyes look like when he says the words 'I love you' and means them in the way they mean now. 

He almost regrets not looking at those cerulean blue orbs when Bill had said it earlier -- he had been too busy feeling the shock weigh down. 

He doesn't have the words though. Sometimes, he just doesn't have the words for his feelings so instead, he carves a nervous half-smile into his lips and kisses Bill again. 

Their kiss feels like forever. 

* * *

Bill, dragged out by his parents, moves two weeks later. 

His letters stop coming 27 weeks after that. 

Eddie pretends their kiss didn't taste like forever. 

His entire life has been consumed with lies; why hold hope out for that one? 

**Author's Note:**

> Muse only seems to hit me on exam week, a given, huh? 
> 
> Kudos and comments make me very happy! :)


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